As we head into 2026... I should be celebrating another year of freedom from horrific sexual abuse, voyeurism, and control, but instead I’m still waiting anxiously to discover if my abuser has been successful in  his appeal to reduce his sentence of 12 years (+3 on licence)

This is his fifth appeal attempt in the three years he’s been behind bars following seven guilty verdicts that include rape, voyeurism, control, and coercion, amongst others.

We live in a culture that rewards constant availability. Being busy. Being responsive. Being visible. Being “on”.

For those of us who have had to fight to be heard, saying yes can feel necessary. If the opportunity is there, we take it. If the journalist reaches out, we respond. If the invite lands, we accept - even when our bodies are already asking us to slow down.

Because what if it doesn’t come back?

I haven’t slept properly since the Government mentioned abolishing jury trials for some offences. This is not because juries are perfect – they’re not- but because they’re the only form of oversight within the justice system.  When I first started speaking out about the judges’ lack of accountability a couple of years ago, I did so because of something my family lived through and something that opened my eyes to a problem I never knew existed. Most of the public don’t know about this either.

In communities across the UK, so many women carry the quiet, often invisible weight of sexual violence and abuse. It is a weight that can reshape lives, identities, and futures. Yet amid these difficult realities, projects like Conforto are creating tailored spaces where survivors can process, share, and rebuild their lives.

A survivor’s open letter urging government not to use court delays to justify removing the right to a jury

By Vicki

As debate grows around limiting jury trials, Vicki offers a vital perspective from lived experience. Her open letter sets out clearly why her case must not be used to justify removing the right to be tried by a jury.

The recent debate on restricting jury trials has focused on so-called “lower level” offences to allegedly relieve the waiting times for the more serious crimes. But that’s not where the real crisis sits. The greatest inconsistency - the greatest injustice - occurs in rape and sexual violence cases, where juries are asked to evaluate crimes, that they fundamentally do not understand.

Rochelle Marashi traces the evolution of Metacog - the platform she launched during her training to make psychological ideas more accessible - and how it grew into a space for exploring the hidden dynamics of coercive control and stalking.

Through clinical insight, research, and advocacy, she sheds light on why these behaviours remain so poorly recognised within therapy and wider systems, and how greater visibility, accurate language, and practitioner training can protect survivors and reshape responses.

There’s no guidebook, just grit - from late nights and silence to small sparks of hope that keep it moving.

As I sit near the one-month mark before the CPS Victims’ Right to Review pilot finishes, I’ve been reflecting on what it’s really like to try to launch a campaign - one rooted in personal experience, justice, and years of pushing for change.

There’s no guidebook for this kind of work. Just like the justice system itself, you’re winging it - driven by passion, by anger, by hope.

20th October 2020.
The day my life turned upside down.

I remember sitting in a meeting room at the police station, waiting for an update I had been anticipating for years. After nearly three and a half years of waiting, I thought I was finally about to go to court. Instead, I heard a word I had never come across before: sexsomnia.

That was the first time I heard it - in that room, from the Crown Prosecution Service.

This submission shook me.

A woman reached out to Make Yourself Heard and described an experience that no one should ever have to endure. She was pregnant when her ex-partner attacked her. During the same violent incident, he beat and strangled his own 18-month-old son. The assault was recorded on her home security system. There is footage. He pleaded guilty.

And yet, today, he is seeking custody of the son, whom he strangled. And of the baby she was still carrying when he attacked her.

The joy I should be feeling, loving my life and cherishing my family, all turns to horror scenarios flashing through my nightmares when a letter from the Witness Care team lands on my hall floor…repeatedly in the three years since my abuser has been in prison, this has been the case.

I didn’t set out to be a victim of domestic abuse; I didn’t intend to be a prisoner and not a partner for ten terror-filled years, but the shackles of control and coercion sneak slowly around your life until, before you know it, you're contemplating death as your only means of escape.

Take the Stand – Reclaiming the Right to Be Heard
In conversation with the creators of the Take the Stand podcast.

We sat down with the creators behind Take the Stand to hear more about where it started, why it matters, and what they’ve learned in the process.

The police complaints process can often feel like a labyrinth, fraught with obstacles, delays, and a pervasive sense of impersonal bureaucracy. For individuals seeking justice, this journey can be emotionally taxing and frustrating.

Charlotte's experience serves as a critical case study, shedding light on the intricacies of this system, revealing the challenges faced by those seeking accountability, and highlighting areas for improvement.

My journey toward hope and empowerment began when fate brought me into contact with an extraordinary journalist. This encounter was somewhat serendipitous, taking place on a September afternoon in 2019, nearly two and a half years after I reported being raped. While cleaning the windows of my flat and tuning into BBC Radio 4's Woman's Hour, I stumbled upon an interview featuring Claire Waxman, the Victim's Commissioner for London.

Sex after rape is one of the most complex and deeply personal journeys a survivor can face. It’s not just about physical intimacy - it’s about reclaiming a sense of control, safety, and self-worth in a body that may feel like it has been taken away. For those in long-term relationships, this journey involves personal healing and shared understanding with a partner. For those dating after experiencing trauma, it adds a new layer of vulnerability and navigation.